


The World Has Turned (And Left Me Here)

by greywing (ctrlx)



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ctrlx/pseuds/greywing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lauren could (not) have dreamt of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Has Turned (And Left Me Here)

**Author's Note:**

> **SPOILERS** : The events of Season 2. This fic was inspired by events in 3x08, “Fae-ge Against the Machine,” but can be read without knowledge of the episode.  
>  **Disclaimer** : “Lost Girl” is the property of Prodigy Pictures, Shaw Media, Showcase, Syfy, and countless other affiliates. Not mine.  
> 

Somewhere between Yale, Afghanistan, and the Congo, Lauren Lewis had stopped making detailed, long-term plans for her life. So little turned out the way she expected them to--her first roommate, her first brush with love, her first almost-B(-minus), her first time drunk, her first sexual encounter (which may have had something to do with her first time drunk), her first hook-up with heartbreak, her first patient, her first rejection letter, her first time spearheading a project, her first conference presentation--that it was almost a surprise that she could still be surprised. Yet, even once having hoped that a moment like this would come to pass, Lauren knew that her eighteen-year-old self, homesick and lonely and uncertain on the first day of classes, could not have dreamt of the reality. The excitement. The nervousness. The sense of accomplishment. The looks of recognition. The surreality.

Lauren cleared her throat and tried again to smooth away the ear-to-ear smile stretching her mouth taut.

“And, last but certainly not least, I need to thank my lovely wife." The pair of sparkling eyes that had not once left Lauren’s face throughout her speech crinkled above a smile that grew wider. Upon the meeting of their gazes, a watery haze descended across Lauren’s vision. "She has stood by my side for many years offering endless love and support, and without her I would have no way of knowing just how bad my jokes are.” Polite laughter rippled across the floor but all that mattered was that one woman’s laugh, the little shake of her head. Lauren blinked away the tears and held her wife’s eyes. “Thank you, Nadia. For everything you do and continue to do." Nadia blew her a kiss and Lauren finally broke away from her gaze to address the whole room. “And thank you, everyone. This is truly an honor. Thank you.”

Applause escorted Lauren off the stage. That sound thundering over the roar of her heart would probably be the only thing she’d recall when she looked back on this night. The applause and Nadia, beautiful and radiant, who received her back at their table with open arms and a peck on her cheek that told Lauren everything she needed to know: that the speech had been fine, that she deserved every accolade, that Nadia was proud of her.

Lauren closed her eyes and savored the moment.

As the master of ceremonies wrapped up the festivities, Lauren turned the plaque over and over in her hands. Nadia watched her quietly with a small smile of satisfaction. Around them attendees rose from their seats, mingled and loitered, saying goodbyes and exchanging business cards, but the two of them lingered. Nadia gave her a minute--to fix this moment in her mind and spin it into the cloth stuff of confidence that she could wrap around herself against future doubts--and then trailed one hand down Lauren’s forearm. At the juncture of Lauren’s wrist and palm, Nadia wriggled her fingers between soft flesh and warmed wood like a wedge. She torqued and pulled, slowly and insistently, and Lauren resisted, amused and playfully, until Nadia managed to lever Lauren’s hand entirely off the award and claim Lauren’s fingers within her own.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Papageorgiou,” Nadia whispered.

Lauren smiled at her. “Thank you, Mrs. Dr. Lewis.”

Nadia made a face. "Really?"

Lauren tapped the plaque against the table. "I think it's appropriate for tonight."

"You see, this is why I didn't take your name," Nadia teased her. This was a familiar game.

"And I didn't take yours because of the lack of fancy titles," Lauren quipped.

"Liar. You didn't take mine because it's hard to spell."

"That, too."

They shared a smile.

"Ready?" Nadia asked. Lauren took a deep breath and nodded. The night had to come to an end at some point. As they made to gather their belongings, a voice ambushed them.

"Congratulations, Dr. Lewis."

Lauren hesitated. Nadia raised her head and stiffened. Lauren stuffed down a sigh and turned around.

“Dr. Snook. Thank you,” she said to a severe-looking petite woman who had been standing just behind her. Dani Snook was all sharp angles, arching eyebrows, and gentle condescension. Lauren suspected Snook was the source of the bulk of peer review “criticism” that had dogged her papers over the years.

“Yes, well, it’s a pity that Ashland’s paper didn’t muster pass peer review in time for this year’s publications.”

“I’m sure his insights and advances will be invaluable,” Lauren allowed. She sensed more than saw Nadia sidle up close by her side. An arm circled around her waist.

“From what I’ve heard, his findings are surprising. Unbelieveable, even,” Dr. Snook said with the barest breath of enthusiasm. Which was a lot for her.

“Did he find the fountain of youth?” Nadia interjected. Dr. Snook’s head swiveled on her neck with the eerie smooth mechanicalness of an owl’s to take in Nadia. Nadia smiled at the scientist sweetly. “I keep trying to tell Lauren that searching for the fountain of youth would be faster than poking at petri dishes. More fun, too.” Nadia draped herself on Lauren’s arm and leaned into the blonde so closely that when the photographer turned her head their noses nearly touched. Mirth swirled in Nadia’s eyes. “Don’t I, honey?”

“Um,” Lauren said intelligently, though what she wanted to say was _Stop._

"But Lauren insists on carrying out her love affair with science.” Nadia smoothed back Lauren’s hair. “It’s okay, I’ve gotten used to playing the mistress.” At the widening of Lauren’s eyes, Nadia _smirked._

“That’s why it’s so amazing,” Nadia continued, expression softening and gaining sincerity, “to see her being recognized from among such talented people. I'm so proud of her." She kissed Lauren's cheek and rubbed her arm. Dr. Snook looked on, tight-lipped.

“Yes. Well,” Dr. Snook eked out in staccato. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Lauren managed meekly, blushing hotly. Dr. Snook nodded once, jerkily, and stalked away in long, stiff strides.

The moment Dr. Snook was out of earshot, Lauren whirled on Nadia. “That was uncalled for.”

“She’s a prude and a homophobe and she makes snide remarks to your face every time she talks to you,” Nadia enumerated without a hint of shame. “She needs to be put in her place and if you won’t do it, then I will.” She turned into Lauren’s body and reached out to adjust the straps of the blonde’s dress with exaggerated care and concentration. “No one talks like that to my wife. Besides, I was civil. Mostly.” Her hands stilled and she risked a peek into Lauren’s face. “Though do you think maybe she has a thing for you?”

The sudden one-hundred-eighty-degree shift in topic, the _very idea_ that Dani Snook thought of her that way, made Lauren guffaw. “What?”

“No, really. Maybe she acts like a bitch because she feels the same way your mooney students do around you.”

Lauren’s brows furrowed in incomprehension. “I don’t think Dani Snook has a ‘thing’ for me. And what do you mean, my mooney students?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” Nadia said dryly, gazing at her through her lashes. Her fingertips came to rest lightly along the jut of Lauren’s clavicle, little points of pressure and heat. The contact almost distracted Lauren from the way that Nadia leaned back just a bit, tilted her head, and suddenly crooned high and breathless, “Oh, _Professor Lewis_! I didn’t expect to see you here! I _love_ your lectures. I’ve taken _all_ your classes. I was planning to go to your office hours last week, but I couldn’t make it. Would it be okay if I drop by this week?” A bat of long lashes shyly punctuated the question, but Nadia’s smile, an exaggerated parody of coyness, ruined the effect.

Lauren sucked in her lips to keep from laughing. When she’d smothered the worst of the impulses, she said, “Katya did not sound or act like that. She’s a sweet girl who likes chemistry. She’s good at it, even.”

“Oh, so you do know exactly what I’m talking about.” Nadia’s fingertips tapped against Lauren’s collar as if Lauren were an instrument she was trying to make sing. “Should I be worried?”

Lauren answered with a flat stare.

“Don’t give me that look,” Nadia scolded just as flatly, shaking her head. But there was a twinkle in her eye and a twitch at the corner of her lips. “Babe, I know you. Like that _you_ seduced _your_ professors when you were a mooney student.”

“ _Once_ ,” Lauren hissed with a furtive sweep of the room to see if anyone were eavesdropping, “and she was my TA, not my professor.”

The rising note of irritation in Lauren’s voice sent Nadia’s right hand tracing small circles upon her sternum. Relaxing beneath the touch, Lauren’s hands gravitated to her wife’s hips. To steady herself. To still Nadia. Who, after a short pause, continued, “And let me guess, you went to all her ‘office hours.’”

Lauren nearly threw up her hands. “God, I wish I hadn’t told you that!” Exasperated, she settled for giving Nadia a vigorous shake.

Nadia grinned. “Easy, Professor. You know I love that about you.” Her fingers glided soothingly up and across Lauren’s shoulders.

“Love what?”

The grin slipped into a sly smile. “That wild streak in you. That passion bottled up so tight.” She stepped into Lauren’s body and leaned close so that her lips nearly brushed Lauren’s ear. “Did I tell you that my mother offered to watch Ethan overnight?” Nadia’s voice dropped to a decibel above a whisper. Her breath ghosted hot across Lauren’s skin. “And that I accepted the offer?”

Lauren’s face split into a grin. The type of grin that would have embarrassed her if she could have seen herself in that moment. Flushing warm from head to toes, Lauren pulled Nadia close and turned her head so that they were pressed cheek-to-cheek. “Bless your mother. Do you think she’ll offer again next week?”

Nadia pulled back within the radius of Lauren’s grasp so that she could look into the doctor’s face, sporting a grin to match Lauren’s own. “She better. I plan to make you eat your medicine, Doctor. I’m going to preen for all my admirers and make you watch.”

“Oh, really? If I recall correctly, the last time we attended one of your functions, _somebody_ \--who was not me--nearly dragged her wife home in a fit of jealousy because she was making small talk with--what was her name?”

“Belinda Denard,” Nadia muttered darkly.

“That’s it.” A self-satisfied smirk prompted a glower from Nadia. Lauren let the moment strain to fraying before relenting. “Not that I blame you. Belinda seemed to think that this--” Lauren lifted her left hand and waggled her fingers so that the nestled diamond-studded ring and unadorned band on her ring finger caught the light, “--held no significance.”

Nadia frowned. She was, Lauren knew better than to voice, adorable wound up in chagrin. It was the pout of her lower lip. It tempted like an offering for Lauren to worry gently between her teeth.

“She won’t be there,” Nadia said curtly. “She better not be there. I told James she wasn’t invited. And if she does show up--” Nadia’s hands insinuated themselves between their bodies, skimming over Lauren’s breasts and across her ribs, molding into the curves of Lauren’s waist. Her fingers curled into Lauren’s sides and yanked the blonde hard up against her. “--I’ll be sure to make it clear that you’re off limits.”

Nadia leaned in and pressed her lips lightly against Lauren’s. Behind the featherlight contact Lauren could feel the promise of the night unfolding boundless and undisturbed before them. Lauren smiled against those soft lips.

"Lauren!"

The panicked shout broke Lauren and Nadia apart with a start. They and nearly every head in the room turned toward the entrance where a leather-clad brunette bombshell had burst through the doors. The crowd murmured and seemed to flinch away from the intruder, leaving the woman standing dark, stark, and lonesome in a bubble of empty space. The woman took no notice. Her dark eyes scanned the room frantically.

"’Lauren’?" Nadia whispered, her tone shooting for levity, hitting on apprehension. “Should I be worried?”

Lauren shook her head, suddenly a bit lightheaded. “Maybe she’s looking for another Lauren.”

The dark eyes swept past Lauren, stopped, and backtracked to settle on the unnerved doctor. A smile of relief broke out across the woman’s face like the dawn chasing away the darkest hour of night. Seeing it set off a riot in Lauren’s belly. Flutters of fear. Anticipation. Dread.

“She’s coming over here,” Nadia observed nervously. Uncertainty and anxiety twisted her voice tight.

“I don’t know her, I swear,” Lauren whispered. Yet she couldn’t look away from the woman bearing down on them, whose dark eyes rooted Lauren to her spot and spurred her heart into beating hard, loud, and insistent. The world seemed to recede at the edges of her vision. Even Nadia registered as less substantial to Lauren’s awareness, though her wife clutched at her tightly, one arm around Lauren’s waist, half-turned into her, half-facing out to confront the approaching menace.

The crowd parted and swirled like skittish schools of fish in a susurrus of color and sound, and still the woman advanced on them fast and urgent.

“I found you,” the woman called out in between heaving breaths, one arm extended before her as if reaching for Lauren. “Honey, we have to get out of here. This is a . . .” Her voice trailed off, her steps slowed to a halt, and her arm fell limply to her side as she focused on Nadia. “Nadia?”

“I don’t know you,” Lauren said into the vacuum of stunned silence, flinging the words out like an incantation to ward off evil.

Distress and pain washed across the woman’s face. She glanced between Nadia and Lauren, swallowed, then swallowed again as if there’d been no moisture to wet her throat the first time. She refocused on Lauren, looking shaken but determined.

“Lauren, it’s me, Bo. This is a dream,” the woman said.

“She’s crazy,” Nadia said lowly, fingers flexing into Lauren’s side.

The woman, Bo, ignored Nadia and pressed on. “There’s a fae--”

“A what?” Nadia exclaimed in alarm while Lauren repeated “Fae?” aloud. She rolled the word around in her mouth. Something niggled at the back of her mind.

“Yes!” Bo said excitedly, watching Lauren’s face intently. “A fae, a, a, what did Trick call it?”

“Trick?” echoed Lauren in a daze.

“Honey, don’t listen to her, she’s speaking nonsense,” Nadia said. She laid her free hand on Lauren’s arm.

The movement caught Bo’s attention. She stared at Nadia’s hand and appeared to tremble. It was with great effort that she dragged her eyes away back up to Lauren’s confused gaze.

“Lauren,” Bo began slowly. Her voice held such--anxiety, regret, sorrow, pain. Tension petrified every muscle in Lauren’s body. Her heart hammered hard in her chest, nearly drowning out the woman’s following words: “I’m sorry, but--Nadia’s dead. I--”

“Killed her,” Lauren finished. The words felt like they’d been ripped out of her, torn from someplace deep within her gut, leaving her feeling hollowed and ravaged. A wave of nausea sent a rush of bile into her throat. “We. I--”

_**I** killed Nadia._

“What?” Nadia said, sounding as if she wanted to laugh, but seizing on only anger and incredulity. Her hands held Lauren fast and turned her so that they were face-to-face. “Dead? Killed? No. Lauren, no, I’m right here.”

Lauren blinked and Nadia’s face crystallized into clarity. She was. Nadia was right there. But images and sensations crashed through Lauren’s mind and she remembered--blood, the smell of copper in her nose, the taste of it at the back of her mouth, the warmth and stickiness of it on her hands, the sight of it on the floor--a stain that refused to come out.

“Lauren. Look at me,” Nadia said. Lauren snapped back into the moment with the wild-eyed bewilderment of a lost child. Nadia cupped her face between her hands. “Look at me. I am right here. I am real. Touch me, feel me.”

Lauren reached up and gripped Nadia’s wrists.

“See?” Nadia said, resolute and desperate. “I am your wife, even if I didn’t take your name. We have a son, Ethan, who is waiting for us at my mother’s. _You_ got to name him because no one supported my suggestion of Adonis.” A smile quavered on Nadia’s lips, trying to inject the humor of her small joke. From nearby came a small sound from a throat that wasn’t Lauren’s, like the keen of a wounded animal. “Next week my new show is opening, the one which you helped me plan for weeks, the one where Belinda Denard isn’t invited.

“How is this not real?”

Lauren closed her eyes. If she thought very hard, she could almost see it. How her and Nadia’s wedding would have been magical or near-disastrous or both. What their son might have looked like if he had come from her, or Nadia, or been a child whom they chose. How they’d have stressed and thrilled over plans for an exhibition, given and taken laughter and encouragement while crafting acceptance speeches, argued and discussed and bartered over every individual and joint decision, big and small, with opposing opinions. How at the end of long days, pleasant or unpleasant, they’d have had the comfort of settling into each other’s arms and relating the events and highlights of their respective days in quiet voices, planning for the next one and the ones after that. Lauren could route, almost, where years of push and pull and opportunities and setbacks might have taken them, separated them, rejoined them. She could almost imagine what life could have been like for them, her and Nadia, together.

It sounded so good, so beautiful, so sweet.

Lauren had dreamt of it once.

It could only ever be a dream now.

Lauren released a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.” She opened watery eyes and shook her head. “I’m sorry.” Lauren drew Nadia’s hands away from her face as hurt and confusion crept into the eyes that, even now, gazed on her with faith. “ _I’m sorry._ ” She released Nadia from her grip. “For everything.”

“Don’t do this,” Nadia whispered brokenly, searching Lauren’s eyes, wearing an expression that was the stuff of Lauren’s nightmares: that look of betrayal, the pinched lines of pain, the disbelief, the disappointment, the _knowing._

Lauren took a step away from this woman who was not her wife, who was no longer alive, who could not be real, and still she wept, tears spilling silently down her cheeks.

“Don’t go,” Nadia pleaded. “I love you.”

Lauren’s heart swelled to suffocating in her chest with the immensity of a tenderness and affection uneroded by years of absence and change. This was how she should have felt, would have felt, if five years hadn’t been robbed from them. To the tip of her tongue leapt the response that had once been automatic, but right behind it teetered the truth:

_I loved you._

“Goodbye, Nadia,” Lauren said, swallowing the lump in her throat, the bile in her mouth, and the words she really wanted to say.

_Forgive me._

Lauren turned away.

“Let’s go,” she said hoarsely to Bo, who reached for her. But Lauren couldn’t bring herself to look at the succubus as the figures and faces dissolved around them into obscurity.

Lauren willed her feet toward the exit and did not look back.

*

“What was it?” Lauren asked over a cup of cooling tea that had done nothing to warm any part of her.

“A taiyi tianzun,” Trick answered from across the bar. His drawn face looked almost as tired and haggard as Lauren felt. “They’re powerful psychics, illusionists, and hypnotists that trap their prey in fantasies. Unfortunately for anyone in the vicinity, their powers have a sort of . . . area effect.”

“So we were all . . . collateral feeds?” Lauren asked. Trick shrugged.

Lauren gazed into the golden liquid in her cup, past the reflection on the surface of the Dal’s crossbeams. “Are these fantasies usually . . . happy ones?”

Trick’s gaze turned inward. “The Taiyi Tianzun has been called the ‘savior of sufferers.’”

Lauren studied the barkeep. “Did you want to stay in the fantasy?”

“Lauren,” Trick said with a sad little smile, “there’s a reason why fantasies are considered fantasies.”

 

\- FIN -

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a reference to Weezer’s “The World Has Turned and Left Me Here” from _The Blue Album_. It was not until writing this story that I realized that I misheard the lyrics for years, believing the chorus to be “The world has turned and left me here / _To swear_ I was before you appeared.” I’m still partial to this interpretation. Oops.
> 
> Nadia appears to never have been given a last name in the series. I borrowed a Greek last name following actress Athena Karkanis’ heritage. I can only hope that any last name given to Nadia in canon will be as ridiculously difficult to spell.
> 
> The Taiyi Tianzun is associated with Taoist lore. I have taken extreme liberties with interpretation to suit the purposes of this story.
> 
> Let me also extend a thank you to , whose willingness to read the drafts I’ve floated out on my LJ and whose generous reactions to them encouraged me to plug away at my recent pieces of fiction. Thank you, Jen!
> 
> And thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
